


Tale as Old As Time

by DeanRiordain



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Canon Universe, Domestic Castiel/Dean Winchester, Domestic Fluff, Family Fluff, M/M, Married Castiel/Dean Winchester, POV Castiel, Parents Castiel & Dean Winchester, Romantic Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-03
Updated: 2017-04-03
Packaged: 2018-10-14 14:45:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,578
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10538655
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DeanRiordain/pseuds/DeanRiordain
Summary: Once upon a time, in a not so far away land, there was a little house on the suburban Lebanon Street in Kansas. However normal the life they’d begun to live seemed, the Winchester family residing in the picketed cul-de-sac was anything but ordinary from the very beginning.-or-In which Castiel tells a very special story to his and Dean's son. (AKA: Fluff.)





	

**Author's Note:**

> Very loosely inspired by Beauty and the Beast.  
> Canon-Divergence AU  
> Written for the Dean/Cas Mid-Winter 5k
> 
> **Regarding THIS Fic**  
> This is probably the first G/PG piece that I've written in...a long time. So, I hope that you all still enjoy it. It's very fluffy and cute. You'll probably see a few Easter Eggs from other of my works as per usual, particularly HS!Verse. As always, comments and thoughts are hugely appreciated and make my entire day. Thank you for taking your time to enjoy or at least read my work. <3
> 
> **Regarding the Author/Note to Regular Readers**  
> For those of you who follow my works, you may have noticed I haven't been posting regularly. I've been very, very sick- and it's been very hard for me to keep up with my writing but please rest assured I am doing my best and I haven't forgotten, and although things are running a little late, they are still running and will still be posted (again, particularly HS!Verse).  
> I will also be attending JIBCon in May. I am doing my absolute best to catch up on all of my writing so that everything will be posted in a timely manner, but I'm asking for understanding and patience because I am really trying my best, and not having things written and posted on schedule has been very hard for me to do, as writing is something that I love to do, both for myself and for you lovely folks that read my work. Thank you so much for your continued support.   
> All my love.

 

The little house on Lebanon street was ready for the rest that came with an evening of a fairly normal life. Dean called the neighborhood, with its cul-de-sacs and white picket fences the ‘apple pie’ life, and Castiel understood the expression now. It meant ‘normal’, ‘ideal’, ‘safe’, ‘secure’- it meant all of the things that he had always wanted for Dean, which, Dean had instead given to him.

The little house at the end of the road was theirs- his, and Dean’s. It was a little different from the rest, stood a little further apart from the neighbors, the picket fence was actually white (some of Dean’s humor had leaked through), the lawn was freshly mowed- but what really set it apart were the days that Dean took Baby out of the garage, and the 4-door-sedan owners and dads came to look and marvel at Dean’s car.

When they did, Castiel would smile out the window, and wave. The wives of the neighborhood loved Castiel, and Castiel loved them- they’d shown him how to bake pie so that he could surprise Dean, and they had given him comfort when Dean was on the road by inviting him to book clubs, and what Dean called ‘gossip groups’. Castiel never spoke much at these events, but felt welcome, even if they were the only two married men on the block.

Everything just...fit. And tonight, as the little house on Lebanon street was getting ready to rest, Castiel Winchester was putting the finishing touches on three steaming cups of cocoa- sinful amounts of whipped cream and cinnamon- which both of the Winchester boys loved. He covered his own in sticky-sweet marshmallows, before deeming them ‘done’.

“Something smells good.” Dean said from the doorway, having smelled the cinnamon coming from the kitchen, and following the scent to investigate. 

“It’s not you,” Castiel teased, looking Dean up and down with a grin. Dean had just gotten back from a hunting trip that night, and Castiel was elated to see him, but couldn’t help giving him just a little hell. Since Sam and Eileen had moved to California, it’d become his job to keep Dean on his toes. He’d like to think he’d gotten good at it, “Pie’s in the fridge, too.”

“A man after my own heart,” Dean smiled, kissing Castiel’s cheek, “I’ll shower before bed.”

“Daddy!” said a little boy, no more than six, with a mop of dark, wet brown hair half-covering his eyes. Castiel put the tray of cocoa down, and bent, to usher their son into his arms, lifting him up and brushing the hair out of his eyes to reveal a mesmerizing blue.

“Oof,” Castiel feigned injury at the weight of a fifty pound child being launched into his arms, “You got me there. You all clean, Genesis?”

“Yeah!”

“Did your dad make sure to wash your face?” he half-looked at Dean, trying not to grin.

“Yeah!”

“And behind your ears?” 

“Yeah, daddy!” the boy, Genesis, giggled.

“And what about-?” Castiel cut himself off, holding his squirming child in his arms as he tickled him.

“Daddy, stop! Stop!” Genesis begged as Castiel set him down. It was immediately followed by, “Do I get pie, too?”

“He got more from you than just your freckles,” Castiel had told Dean on numerous occasions. The boy was born from a female vessel, after Dean had made sure to find a way to keep the old one safe and sound. Now, Castiel was back in his old vessel, a closet full of trench coats, and also what Dean called ‘civilian clothes’. His husband had reassured him that he wouldn’t have it any other way.

Genesis was always special, and not because he was Nephilim, but because he was the by-product of them- of Dean, and of Castiel, and because when he was born, Castiel couldn’t take his eyes off of him- for hours. He’d never loved something, not even Dean, that much, so quickly, so purely.

“You didn’t answer his question, Cas,” Dean said, with a mouthful of pie.

“No pie before bed,” Castiel concluded, “If you’re really good, maybe you can have pie for breakfast tomorrow. If your dad leaves you any,” he quipped back, and Dean obediently put the pie back in the fridge.

Castiel swore the boy looked exactly like Dean when he pouted- his freckles stood out more, irritation buzzed on his features- and still, Castiel could do nothing but smile. “But, you can have hot chocolate, and a story. Which story do you want?” Cas asked, carrying Genesis into a room, decorated with little honeybees, in shades of green and yellow. By the closet was a massive shelf of storybooks, most of which Castiel found as intriguing to read as little Genesis did- which is why at the boy’s bedtime every night, Castiel insisted upon being the one to read to him. Sometimes, Dean would stay and listen, other times, he would raid the fridge while he couldn’t be scolded- or if he was really tired, he’d go to bed before their son.

Genesis pulled a book off the shelf excitedly, thrusting it into Castiel’s arms before getting a running start into bed, dodging beneath the covers.

“ _ Beauty and the Beast _ ? Again?”

“Yeah, daddy, it’s my favorite.”

Castiel could tell. It was worn out from being read over and over. He put the book down, met with a scowl by his son, “How about I tell you another story? It’s just like  _ Beauty and the Beast _ \- just a little different. Fair?”

“Is there a beast?”

“Cold and cruel,” Castiel assured. 

When Genesis was placated, Dean brought in the cocoa, sitting it bedside, “So, what’s it going to be tonight?”

_ “The Angel and the Hunter,” _ Cas said with a grin.

Dean looked confused, before noticing the book that Genesis had chosen, and decided to spare his husband a repetitive night. His green eyes widened, “Oh!”  he said, nodding his approval, “That’s a...that’s a good one.”

Castiel nodded. They hadn’t told Genesis that dad was a hunter, and daddy was kind of an angel. Both of them had decided that being fathers was enough. “Once upon a time,” Cas’ gruff voice began.

“Dad, you know it’s gonna be good,” Genesis said, eyes wide and serious as he explained to Dean, “It starts with ‘once upon a time’.”

Castiel watched Dean’s features melt, another of the many effects Genesis had on, well, not just them even, but everyone he met. Dean smiled, sitting cross-legged on the floor, torso still stretched over the wooden frame of the bed as he sipped at his cocoa, and Castiel watched as both the Winchester boys began to sport a milk-and-cinnamon mustache.

“C’mon Cas,” Dean teased, mock-whining, “I wanna hear the story.”

“Once upon a time,” Cas cracked in the middle, laughing, wondering how he’d ever managed to acquire this much happiness, “There was an angel named Cassiel…”

“Angel of Thursday,” Dean quipped in, teasing Cas.

“There was…” Castiel couldn’t control the short burst of laughter as he swatted at Dean, “There was an angel...named Cassiel. He lived in a big cloud, in heaven,” Castiel said, stretching his arms out wide to mimic the cloud.

Dean raised his eyebrow, “And he played the harp.”

“He did not play the harp, Dean.”

“Dad,” Genesis scolded, clapping two hands over Dean’s mouth, giving him a very serious look that was almost the spitting image of Cas,  “I wanna hear the story.”

“Cassiel...wasn’t like the rest of the angels,” Castiel explained gently, but not without shooting Dean a brief smirk of victory.

Genesis piped up, “He didn’t like playing the harp?”

The victory smirk was returned from Dean tenfold, and Castiel couldn’t help but laugh again, running his fingers lovingly through Genesis’ hair.

“Well, he didn’t want to play the harp,” Castiel agreed, as though it was truly the downfall of his ‘fictional’ angel, “But it was more than that, Genesis, because, you see,” his voice turned into a whisper, getting the perfect volume to his voice at the right time, the true vision of a storyteller, “He was just different. Whatever the other angels did, no matter how hard Cassiel tried, he didn’t believe in it. He did things his own way. And he felt bad, and he cried...so much, that on Earth, it began to rain. And it rained, and rained, until one day, Cassiel’s father thought of a plan. You see, he wanted Cassiel to be different, because…” Castiel paused, booping Genesis on the nose, and waiting for him to fill in the blank as they’d discussed time and time again.

Genesis grinned wide, “Because different is good!”

“That’s right,” Castiel gasped, agreeing with Genesis, “Different  _ is _ good. But, Cassiel was lonely. All the other angels were mean to him...and so, he got good at pretending he wasn’t so different after all. He got so good at it that he even began to think it himself.”

Castiel paused, taking a sip of his cocoa, “But he didn’t feel better. He forgot that he had a heart, and that he was curious,” Castiel’s voice rose with excitement, “That he loved to ask questions, and most importantly- feel. His dad only watched, and he grew sad for Cassiel, because he wasn’t the angel he was supposed to be anymore, he had turned bad, and cold...not unlike a beast,” Castiel made his point. “So, his dad made a plan. But this plan would take years and years and years to complete. Because, time for angels is infinite,” Castiel pointed at the galaxy of glow-in-the-dark stars they’d plastered to Genesis’ ceiling in constellations, demonstrating infinity, “And because Cassiel didn’t know it, but he was waiting on one man: the righteous man.” 

He paused to gauge Dean’s reaction. He stayed silent, intrigued by the story himself. Castiel smiled, “Only the righteous man could break the horrible curse that Cassiel had set upon himself...and remind him of the heart he’d long forgotten. And, because Cassiel’s father was God, he made many men, great in their own ways, and Cassiel watched each of them spawn legends from right there upon his little cloud. But none of them were the righteous man, and nothing changed, and Cassiel forgot entirely what it was to have a heart. He learned words that good angels never needed to know- war, and pain, and death. He became a leader of a great army, and the other angels were happy. Cassiel didn’t know what happy was anymore.”

It had been one of the darkest times in Castiel’s existence, even if he hadn’t realized it at the time. He had done things because it was what was willed, and ordered, and ‘right’. By the time that Dean had actually been born, his father had been long gone, and happiness was so far lost with it that it wasn’t even a memory.

“Bells rang out in heaven when the righteous man was born. There were celebrations, and music, and joy….and for the first time, Cassiel felt something.”

Connection. A bond. A profound bond built by his father, not for Michael’s holy vessel, but for him. For some deeper meaning he didn’t understand yet. It had not yet become the love he would learn, but from the day Dean was born, emotions began to re-awaken inside of Castiel. Curiousity.  Curious little human, that would change the world.

“Cassiel learned many things as he watched the righteous man. He found the things that he learned were curious, and that they were so different from the way he had been doing things for so long. He started to remember...righteous did not always mean ‘right’. It did not always mean ‘easy’.”

Sometimes, it was anything but. And Castiel knew that, merely watching Dean from heaven, perhaps not from a cloud; but, from wherever he could. The day that the righteous man had been born, all of heaven had been on high alert, and though the wonder of Dean Winchester subsided quickly for most angels who were more robot than empathetic beings of God at that point, Castiel had always been amazed, and watched from afar when he could manage.

He’d watched the righteous man take his first steps, and then watched as the he taught his little brother to walk with no one around to show his accomplishments. He watched him grow up from a toddler, to a boy, to a man, much faster than his father had any right to make him. He witnessed the times, both good and bad, that Dean had been led by his heart to make decisions that had sculpted and changed not only his own world, but the world of his own humankind.

He’d wanted to protect Dean. At any cost.

At first because of duty.

Later, because of love.

“And when, at last, Cassiel laid his hands upon the righteous man, he was perhaps most surprised to learn that after learning that he had become something he was not proud of, and learning to believe in so many new things, that the righteous man did not believe in him. So, Cassiel had to re-learn patience, and it,” Castiel chuckled, “It did not come easily.”

“Nope,” Dean mouthed almost silently, causing a playful nudge from Castiel.

“Didn’t his daddy used to tell him that angels were watching over him?” Genesis mumbled sleepily, rubbing one of his eyes with a tiny fist.

Dean took that one, fussing with the blankets a little more so that Genesis could get comfortable, “I think if I remember the story right, kiddo, the righteous man’s mommy used to tell him before bed all the time.”

“Then why didn’t the righteous man believe in Cassi- Cassi-” Genesis struggled with the name before saying it right, “Cassiel?” 

Dean and Castiel looked at each other in one of those rushed parental emergency moments. Genesis really liked to test the hard questions...ones like why is the sky blue and why does he have two daddies? Surprisingly, Cas was usually first to come up with the answers. Dean usually looked thankful for that, and tonight was not an exception.

“Well, sometimes, grown-ups...they get a little lost. The righteous man had just gotten a little lost.”

“Like Maurice in the forbidden forest?”

“Kind of like that, ” Castiel nodded his agreement, trying to imagine Dean as an old man on a horse, riding into the woods. He was definitely stubborn enough...maybe in the Impala on some old middle of nowhere road on empty if he thought he was going the right way.

“But, Cassiel found him, right, daddy? So he didn’t stay lost.”

“Well, Genesis, they kind of found each other.”

Castiel watched Dean’s cheeks flush red, his freckles forming constellations more beautiful than the stars, which made Castiel smile as he sipped his cocoa before continuing the story, detailing as best as he could the events that led an angel to fall in every way possible and at the same time, fly higher than ever.

However, before he’d gotten to the falling, Dean was nudging him again, nodding to Genesis, mouth slightly parted, head rolled to the side of his pillow, sleeping gently. Castiel nodded and smiled, gathering up the cups of cocoa, mouthing to Dean ‘shower’.

 

* * *

 

 

Castiel listened to the thrumming of the shower water as it hit the walls a couple rooms over, as Dean did what he thought was a ‘quiet’ rendition of  _ Can’t Fight This Feeling _ by  _ REO Speedwagon.  _ He finished drying the last of the cups and sat them on the drying rack, standing back and looking around to make sure the kitchen was clean, before putting the coffee for the following morning beside their little coffeepot and retreating into the bedroom where the volume of the singing intensified.

Something about the story that he’d been telling Genesis had made him extra sentimental, so he found himself thumbing over the pictures on the longer of their two dressers- the pictures that ‘Cassiel’ would have never imagined possible, would have even found disgusting. Castiel found them the most beautiful things- little memories frozen in time of kisses shared, or of Genesis’ first moments on the planet, and of those that they hadn’t seen in so long- Sam and Eileen, Dean and his mother Mary.

His favorite of these pictures was the one of Genesis’ birthday last year. In true Winchester fashion, their son had insisted upon a pie instead of cake, and had apparently learned from his dad or uncle how to act like a Winchester, too. Genesis had blueberry all around his face, and was proceeding to shove fistfulls of pie into both Castiel and Dean as Sam took the photo, and Eileen laughed in the background.

He finally settled back, not wanting to mess up the bed until he and Dean were both tucked beneath the covers, so he laid atop the quilt instead, pointing the remote up at the TV and turning on Netflix, resuming one of his favorites from where he had left off the night before.

 

* * *

  
  


“So, uh,” Dean said, stepping out of the shower not ten minutes later, hair still damp enough to be dripping water down the sides of his cheeks and down his nose, “Interesting story tonight.”

Castiel glanced up, clicking off  _ The Great British Baking Show  _ just as Mel was about to announce the week’s star baker. He found Dean standing in the doorway of their en-suite bathroom with a towel wrapped around his waist, looking at him expectantly.

Castiel stood up, walking over to Dean, his eyes narrowing, “It is an interesting story, Dean.”

“Unique names and all.”

Castiel shrugged, “He’ll find out one day.”

“And you’re okay with that?” Dean asked, loosening the towel, finishing drying, and bending to open the oak drawer by their bed, fumbling for a pair of boxer-briefs, shimmying them on.

“I am. I am not ashamed of you, Dean. I am not ashamed of us, or of our son,” Castiel said, following behind him and sitting on the edge of the bed.

“But you’re ashamed of yourself,” Dean noted, sitting beside Castiel, interlocking their calloused fingertips. There was so much harshness in their hands from years of battle, and of how hard they had fought to get here- that even holding hands served as a reminder that even the deepest levels of hell could lead to such a beautiful heaven.

“I…” Castiel stopped, glancing down at their hands, fidgeting his fingers tighter between Dean’s, “I am not ashamed of your husband, or Genesis’ father,” he tried to explain, almost at a loss for words at Dean’s quick perception, “You said it before...angels are dicks.” 

Dean looked taken aback before he smiled, pulling Castiel down into bed, down into ‘warmth’ and ‘home’ and ‘husband’ and ‘love’, “Not my angel,” Dean protested, soft lips pressing against Castiel’s forehead as he gathered him into his arms, “Only thing you’ve ever been is mine.”

Castiel looked up, shooting Dean a look, blue eyes piercing through every sappy word until Dean caved, “Okay, well, maybe you were a little bit of a dick. But only in the beginning. And not because you wanted to be. You’re not some kind of monster, Cas...believe me. I’ve seen enough in my life to know.”

“You did try to stab me when we met, Dean.”

“You really don’t make this easy, do you?” Dean said, resorting to the one thing Castiel couldn’t come back at with a serious answer- tickling.

Castiel squirmed back at least a foot, “Dea- Dean! Stop! Stop! You- you’re going to wake- you’re going to wake up Genesis! Stop!”

But he didn’t. Because Dean was stubborn, because he didn’t give up...at least, not until he had ‘his’ angel pinned beneath him, hair a mess and cheeks flushed from being tickled, smiling so brightly that anything but that sort of sunshine should have been a sin. “You’re not a monster. Never have been,” Dean said adamantly. “You were an angel who learned how to be human and fell in love with one. Now, I don’t care if that makes us some sort of sappy fairytale or just two really messed up dudes just trying to figure it out...but, either way,” Dean paused, characteristically running out of what he’d call ‘the right words’. 

Castiel waited. He always found that waiting with Dean often yielded the best results. And, as usual, he wasn’t wrong.

“I love you, just as you are. Always have. Don’t have to change a thing. I’ll just keep loving you, and Genesis, and we’ll tell him what we tell him when the time is right.” He broke into a smile, burying his face into Castiel’s hair, murmuring into it, “It really is an interesting story, but...we’ll just keep...I dunno, figuring it out as it goes.”

Castiel didn’t imagine that he’d ever have humanity, or his beloved Dean entirely figured out. But, to be fair, he wouldn’t have his ‘happily ever after’ any other way.

“Hey, Dean?” Castiel grinned as he switched off the bedside lamp and found his way back into his loved one’s arms.

“Yeah, Cas?” Dean said, tightening his arms around the angel.

“Do you think our first kiss was true love’s first kiss?” Castiel teased.

“Shut up, Cas,” Dean pushed him a little, shaking in silent laughter.

“I love you, Dean,” Castiel smiled, closing his eyes.

Nope, not any other way.


End file.
